


Kingdom Come

by psychicfiredemoness



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pokemon, Eventual Smut, Labyrinth AU, M/M, Soft Rock/Heavy Metal Shipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicfiredemoness/pseuds/psychicfiredemoness
Summary: Steven's entire life has been planned for him. Work for his family company, marry a nice woman and start a family, live the life he is expected to. He wants no part of it.It becomes too much, and one night he wishes to be taken away from it all. Little does he know that someone has been waiting just for this opportunity. Will he give in to this fantasy or will he return to the only life he knows?Inspired by and (loosely) based on Labyrinth
Relationships: Nezu | Piers/Tsuwabuki Daigo | Steven Stone
Comments: 20
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a touch silly about this, but also very excited. Thank you everyone that helped me with the ideas for this and that helped push me to write this. I hope you all enjoy and comments are always appreciated.

The day wasn’t over as Steven let himself into his small home, but then it never really was. His face ached from the smile that had been plastered on at the office, his body and soul exhausted from the constant strain of appearances.

He loosened his tie and tossed his coat over the back of the sofa as he passed through the living room, throwing the stack of files onto the coffee table, too tired to deal with _that_ nonsense just yet. Instead he headed for the kitchen, the sun setting out over Rustboro Bay and casting the room in a warm orange light. The view was spectacular, the home handpicked by his father so Steven could appreciate the natural beauty of the ocean while still living within a respectable distance of Devon Corporation’s main headquarters. It was a cozy little home, just big enough to start a family in. He hated this place.

Steven poured out a drink refusing to let ice muddle the flavor or strength of the alcohol and he returned to the living room. He flipped on a light and sank into the stiff cushions of the sofa, staring hard at the stack of files and trying, unsuccessfully, to will them away. With a resigned sigh he threw back half of his drink and opened the first file.

The image of a pretty woman winked up at him from the glossy photograph she had provided. She had a good education, was from a good family, didn’t have any medical concerns in her family history. By all accounts she was a lovely and well-bred person. He tossed her profile aside and opened the next one. It was much the same, just with another picture and name. Steven finished off his drink, wandered to the kitchen for another, and returned to the sofa, leaning back until his gaze was settled on the ceiling.

When he had been younger it had been so much easier to meet the expectations set upon him. Accepting the internship at Devon (not that he could have refused) as a teenager had been the start of it all. It had been fine at first, it had even been enjoyable for a while. After he had graduated, he had been expected to work full-time for his family’s company, and he had told himself that he was happy enough to throw himself into his work for the first few years. Now that he was older he could feel the pressures more acutely, the expectation to take over so his father could step down, to start that happy little nuclear family and bring the next heir for Devon into the world. He knew what he had to do but that didn’t make any of this easier. He took another sip from his drink and felt the warmth of it flow through him.

For too long he let himself fall to his musings. Thoughts of slamming his resignation on his father’s desk, of throwing the marriage proposals in a raging fire and announcing himself against all those leering faces that flattered him for their own gain, of pursuing the things that brought him joy played through his mind like some juvenile fantasy. But they were illusions, he knew they were and nothing more.

The delights were cut short by the image of heartbreak on his father’s face, disappointed by the failure of his son to accept his responsibilities regardless of his feelings or desires. Steven had no cousins on his father’s side, and like his father he too was an only child. The burden fell to him alone and the thought was enough to choke the air from his lungs, his eyes shutting tight to banish the watery weakness rising in them. He didn’t want to disappoint his father but he didn’t want any part of his plans either.

A clatter across the room pulled Steven from the dark mire seizing his mind. He rose, pleased for any excuse that postponed his quest for an unwanted bride, and searched for the cause. A book had fallen and lay open at the foot of the bookshelf, the title staring up at him as Steven reached down to pick it up. He remembered this book from his childhood, a favorite that he had read endlessly. He didn’t think he owned a copy, let alone kept it out in the open like this, but pushed his thoughts aside, elated by the happy accident.

A smile, genuine for the first time in months, crossed Steven’s face as he headed back to the sofa with the book. Many parts he had forgotten as he flipped through the pages, reveling in the story’s rich imagery. The tale was of the Goblin King, powerful in his expansive kingdom. Despite his great powers the King was lonely, until his sight fell upon a special human and was instantly enamored. The King than spirited away his chosen bride to rule by his side for eternity.

Steven felt he could relate in some small sense as he glanced back at those hideous files in front of him; he knew none of the women inside would ease his solitude. He closed the book before he could finish it, not remembering how it ended and too worn out to try to recall the details.

Steven settled the book onto the stack of files and stretched the stiffness from his joints. He would find out how it ended in the morning before having to return to the mediocrity of life. With a wistful smile he turned back to the book.

“I wish the Goblin King would take me away,” he uttered with a laugh that rang mockingly against his ears.

He left the rest of his scotch alongside the files and rose, his head slightly spinning as he made his way to the bedroom. The light to his bedroom didn’t respond when he flicked the switch. He tried again but the room remained in shadow.

A sigh left him and he wandered into the semi-darkness towards his bed, the nightstand beside it home to a more reliable lamp.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as something skittered across the carpet, the door slamming shut on his bedroom. Whatever was in there moved across the floor, seemed to multiply and take off in several directions at once as the wind outside turned into a howl, hitting the window with force enough to open it, or maybe that was the creature that flew inside.

Something like a crow, but much larger, flew into the room and circled Steven. It landed in front of him and in the moonlight Steven could see the creature shift and change. The limbs elongated and the spine straightened until it was no longer anything close to avian.

A man stood across the room, pale as the moonlight that fell upon his skin. There was a sense of aristocracy about him in his flowing black shirt and pants that even in the dim light Steven could tell were _very_ well-fitted. He was beautiful.

A warm flush rose in Steven but he told himself it was just the alcohol. Or maybe it was the way this man’s pale eyes examined him, roaming over every inch as if committing his form to memory. The man began to walk around him, looking at him from every angle.

“Well, well,” the man chided as he circled Steven. “How’d I get so lucky to have you beggin’ me to save you?”

Steven turned as the man circled him, wary of those hungry eyes lapping at his body. “What? I didn’t–”

“You wished that I’d take you away,” the man spoke finishing his first rotation and starting anew.

Steven’s heart fluttered and sank. There was no way. “You’re saying you’re the Goblin King?” He couldn’t help the bemused grin tugging at his lips; this had to be some dream brought on by stress and alcohol.

“That is your name for me.” The man stopped in front of him for a moment, his hand coming up to cup Steven’s cheek with such tenderness he thought he might melt from it, his eyes fighting to keep from fluttering shut. The man’s voice was as soft and warm as his touch. “My name is Piers, and I came to save you.”

Steven stepped away from the man’s touch and lied. “I don’t need to be saved.” He didn’t miss the sudden pain in Piers’ eyes, nor the rage that quickly overtook it.

Piers began to circle him again, stopping behind Steven, his melodic voice no longer that gentle caress it had been a moment ago. “Then you shouldn’t ‘ave called me.”

Steven’s eyes followed him, but when he turned he wasn’t met with the darkness of his bedroom. Bright, warm sunlight kissed his skin as his gaze met Piers. He was no longer at home but on a barren hill that overlooked a massive and intricate stone maze that stretched out for miles and miles in every direction he could see. At the center of the maze lay an enormous, twisted castle that seemed to defy physics.

A shiver worked down Steven’s spine and brought a wave of panic that helped sober his mind.

“You can’t do this,” Steven told him.

“Oh?” Piers’ tone was mocking, a wicked smile crooking his pretty lips. “You think you’ve got any authority over me?”

“Please, I want to go home,” Steven begged.

“Home to what?” Piers bit back. “To that place you hate so you can be your father’s perfect little pawn? So you can go on actin’ like some spineless, weak thing afraid to take what you want? That ain’t you. That’s just what you want them to see.”

How did he know all that?

Piers’ voice turned silky, his eyes softening as he looked at Steven with something the man wasn’t sure he could describe. “Let that mask slip away. Stay here. Be mine.” He offered his hand palm down to Steven; his nails glistened under black polish. “Every kingdom needs a king and queen to watch over it. We can rule this realm together, with me by your side.”

Steven stepped away from him, glancing over his shoulder with only the smallest hope he’d find his bedroom behind him; there was nothing but more dusty hillsides and far beyond that a forest as black as pitch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steven replied.

Piers dropped his hand. “Fine,” he sounded unhappy and stepped closer. “Let’s have us a little game to get you home, since that’s what you _really_ want. I’d hate for you to be unhappy, Steven.”

For a moment Steven wondered how Piers knew his name, but that seemed to be the most innocent thing the King knew about him. Steven didn’t want to imagine what else he knew, what secrets he had stolen from Steven’s heart.

“What game?” Steven asked, refusing the step back again when Piers leaned closer still, his warm breath caressing Steven’s cheek.

“I’ll give you thirteen hours,” Piers explained. “If you find me in my castle at the heart of the labyrinth I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

“And if I don’t find you?” Steven pressed. At this distance he could see just how long and dark Piers’ lashes were, nearly close enough to kiss Steven’s cheek with a blink if the man leaned a little closer.

“Then you’re mine,” Piers told him.

There wasn’t much of a choice.

“I accept,” Steven told him, though he could already feel his stomach sink. He didn’t get the feeling that Piers would let him go so easily.

Before he could react Piers leaned in, forcing a harsh kiss to Steven’s lips that left him tingling and slightly annoyed by the man’s boldness.

“Clock’s tickin’,” Piers laughed slipping away from his conquest. “But by all means, take your time.”

Piers was gone in a heartbeat, faded away between a blink as if he had never been there. Steven was alone again as he headed down the hill towards the imposing labyrinth, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Goblin King was still watching him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone that had been supporting this story! I've got the bare bones knocked out so I hope I'll get the rest up as soon as I can. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy. <3

Steven had checked his watch before making his way down the sloping hill and toward the maze that dominated the landscape. A quarter until midnight, or at least midnight back home.

The outer wall lay uninviting before him. Dead, gnarled trees dotted the land, and tall patches of yellowed grass shot up without plan along the crumbling stonework of ancient monuments. All around him lay the decaying statues of humanoid figures that seemed to scream in anguish, as if trying to scare him from his task. Steven ignored their warning and checked his watch; the face still read a quarter to midnight. It couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to reach the outer wall and without this comfort the time limit would be nagging at the back of his mind. He would just have to be quick about getting home.

Home.

The thought stopped him as he turned from the high walls, far too high to climb. Piers’ words rang like a cold echo in his mind. It was nonsense to think he would want to stay in this place, but _did_ he want to go home knowing what awaited him? To know he was being pushed down a path he wanted no part of, to have no say in his own life as every decision was made for him. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood that made his fist clench, or maybe it was the way that bratty king had seen through him and made him truly acknowledge his unhappiness, his lack of control.

“No,” Steven said low to himself, a deep breath stabilizing him for the moment. He would get out of this place, that was what he wanted.

He began walking along the wall, trying to find a door, a seam, any gap in the impenetrable stone before him.

The tinkling splash of water distracted him from his task and made him pause his search. Steven turned to find a very tall man with a mop of messy white hair standing several feet away, his back towards Steven. He wasn’t sure what the man was wearing but it reminded him of something a commoner might have worn in more medieval times, and he was unceremoniously pissing in the stagnant waters of a half-dried fountain that looked beyond repair.

Steven turned away, embarrassed to catch the stranger in the act. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The man cursed and hurried to pull his pants back up. Steven turned only to be met with a severe glare.

“Oh,” the man grunted with a tight curl of his lip, “it’s _you_.” Without another word he picked something up from the ground and walked away.

“Wait,” Steven chased after him, the man’s stride much longer. “Do you know how to get inside the labyrinth?”

The man ignored him and lifted the device towards something fluttering in the air. Large iridescent wings shimmered beautifully in the air, lifting the tiny humanoid attached to them. The stranger grinned and pumped the device, spraying the little creature with a cloud of vapor. He kicked dirt over the creature after it had fallen to the ground.

“Good riddance,” he huffed and walked off to find another.

Steven rushed to the little creature and scooped it up. A young man, many times smaller than any Steven had seen, with a poof of cream-colored curls looked up at Steven from within his palms. The creature turned and bit deeply into Steven’s finger, making him drop it with a yelp.

“It bit me,” Steven declared trying to shake the pain from his hand.

“What did you think faeries did?” The tall man scoffed as he sprayed another.

“Certainly not that,” Steven replied and glanced back at the walls; still no entrance.

“Shows what you know,” the man mocked. “Why Piers wants a moron like you I don’t understand.”

The comment set him on edge, his tongue loose from his nightcap. “Aren’t you gracious?” Steven bit back without having meant to.

“No, I’m Guzma,” snapped the man as he sprayed another faerie.

“Guzma,” Steven repeated, the name strange to his tongue. “I’m Steven–”

“Yeah I know who you are. Everyone knows,” Guzma snipped. “You’re that human that Piers has his eye on. Surprise you ain’t already on your back for him.”

Heat rose in Steven’s cheeks, the image playing across his mind with unnerving clarity, but he wasn’t the one on his back. Certainly Piers was good looking, but he had a mouth on him, one that begged for him to be put in his place. Steven shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts threatening his mind.

“Guzma,” Steven called once he had collected himself. “Do you know where the entrance to the labyrinth is?”

Guzma sprayed another faerie. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“I need to get to the castle and find Piers so I can go home,” Steven explained.

Guzma stopped and turned to him, leaning his sprayer against his shoulder as he regarded the man with a deep frown. “Why would you want that?”

“It’s where I belong,” Steven answered.

“You sure about that? Why else would his Royal Dickhead bring you here?”

The words died on Steven’s lips. Guzma was blunt if nothing else, it was refreshing in a way. It made Steven want to push back without the niceties he was accustomed to.

“I’m going home. How do I enter the labyrinth?” Steven demanded, steeling himself for Guzma’s next retort.

The man turned and pointed his sprayer at the outer wall. “Through there.”

A huge set of wooden double doors had appeared in what had been smooth stone only a moment ago. They looked too heavy to be simply opened, thorny vines covered in black and white flowers tangled across the surface only adding to the obstacle. The doors creaked inward, beckoning Steven into the maze.

Delighted by this progress, Steven turned a smile to Guzma. “Thank you for your help, Guzma.”

Guzma reddened and turned away. “Whatever,” the man scoffed. “You aren’t actually going in there are you?”

“Yes. I need to get home,” Steven resolved and headed towards the entrance.

“Need or want?” Guzma pried.

Steven stopped. “I want to,” he corrected himself and pressed forward, peeking just passed the doors, his gut already warning him to danger. A long, endless path stretched onward on either side of the doors, so far out that he could see nothing on the horizon. “Which way would you go?”

“Neither,” was Guzma’s swift answer. “If I had some little shitlord trying to get into my pants I’d have just accepted. But I ain’t so lucky.”

“I don’t know if I’d call myself lucky,” Steven told him stepping just beyond the threshold. The walls insides were damp with slime, moss growing in patches along the dark bricks and thick roots burst from the walls and ground to disrupt his progress; it didn’t look like anyone came through this way in a long time. “Still, I’m not completely unlucky. I met you after all.”

Guzma sputtered loudly from beyond the doorway. “Whatever, shut up you weirdo! Try not to get killed in there!” Guzma huffed and hurried away. The doors slammed shut and when Steven turned he found that they had been replaced by the slime-slicked wall.

Alone once more, Steven began to walk. He was tempted to check his watch as he made his way through the narrow alley of the labyrinth, though he knew it would do him no good. The longer he travelled the more apparent it became that there were no turns, no openings or passageways anywhere along the walls that towered over him, pressing in on his mind the further in he went.

Panic began to seize his heart as the maze stretched out before him, endless. He knew he hadn’t had much choice when he had accepted Piers’ wager, but had he fallen into the king’s trap? Was he doomed to spend the remaining hours of this cruel game wandering forward without any hope of winning it? He was too stubborn to give up, to call out for his suitor and submit to his will. Instead, Steven stopped. He dropped down with his head between his knees, the spinning of his head too rapid to keep going just yet.

“‘Allo,” a little voice called to him. “Are you alright?”

Steven turned and found himself facing a little green worm, the creature smiling warmly at him from underneath a little straw hat, tufts of reddish hair poking out from underneath the wide brim.

A little smile tugged at Steven’s lips as the little creature beamed up at him, by all accounts the friendliest being he had met that day. “Did you just say hello?”

“No I said ‘allo, but that’s close enough,” the worm laughed happily. “Come inside, have a cup of tea.” He nodded towards a little hole in the wall.

“Oh, thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t,” Steven told his new little friend. “Do you know how to get out of this place?”

“Sorry no, I’m just a worm,” he lamented.

He couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. He should have known it wasn’t that easy.

“Come inside and meet the missus,” the worm chirped.

“I’d love to, but I need to solve this labyrinth,” Steven sighed, “but there aren’t any turns or anything. I’m starting to think it’s all just one endless path.” A hopeless chuckle passed through his lips, tired from the day and this task before him.

The worm chortled merrily. “Sure there are. There’s one right in front of you.” He nodded across to the opposite wall, nearly dislodging his little hat.

Steven furrowed his brow as he stared. “But that’s just a wall.”

The worm laughed again. “Things aren’t always what they seem in this place. Go on and try it, you’ll see.”

Steven got to his feet and walked towards the wall his hands extended to catch him before he could collide with the stone. He passed through a gap, perfectly camouflaged against the background. His heart leapt at the progress, small, but enough to galvanize him for the coming trials, whatever they were.

“Thank you!” Steven cheered and turned towards the path to his left.

“Not that way!” The worm practically screamed.

Steven stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t go that way, _never_ go that way!” The fear in the little creature’s voice was enough to send him down the other path.

The worm sighed in relief as the human left him. “Goodness, if he had kept going that way it would have taken him straight to that castle.” Relieved that he had sent his new friend towards safety, the worm retreated into his little home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this was a bit longer than I thought. I'm going for something with Steven and I really hope I'm not screwing it up but we'll see. Hope you all enjoy and comments are always appreciated.

Without any way to tell the time, Steven had no idea how long he had been wandering around the labyrinth. By his estimation he had to have been walking at least a couple hours. The slimy outer walls had given way to a sprawling sandstone maze that was spread out so haphazardly that it was hard to keep track. The only marker he had to follow was the castle. The dark fortress looked closer now, but it was still far in the distance.

He hit another dead end with a sigh. It felt like the walls were constantly shifting around him, every turn he passed rearranging the moment his eyes left it. Unwilling to admit defeat he turned back around to try again. His eyes fell to the flagstones, the arrow he had carved into the rock only moments before was now pointing in the opposite direction that he had left it; he had thought to use the strong steel of his rings to mark his path, but it seemed things wouldn’t be so easy. What a tricky place this was.

“Well, that’s hardly fair,” Steven told himself and straightened to look for another path. The castle was still a long way off and Piers was using whatever power he wielded over the land to make this increasingly difficult. He hadn’t thought it was be easy but this was downright irritating.

“That’s right it isn’t fair!” Cackled a voice from behind him.

Steven turned to find some odd characters blocking two identical doors. Four men stood in pairs behind painted wooden shields so large that their bodies were obscured entirely. But maybe there weren’t four at all, this world was odd after all. A single head poked out both above and below the shields, each bracketed by a pair of legs; the heads at the top of the shields were cowering behind the rim of the blockades while the bottom heads openly snickered at Steven.

“This was a dead end a moment ago,” Steven observed.

“No, that’s the dead end behind you!” Cackled the bottom-head from behind the red shield, his hair doing a good imitation of the object.

Steven looked behind him and found that the opening had closed up without a sound. Under normal circumstances he might have enjoyed the novelty, but now it only worked to instill a sense of frustrated helplessness. He turned back to the strangers and glanced at the pair of doors they were guarding.

“I imagine I have to choose?” Steven asked with a gesture to the doors.

“Oh, brother he’s smarter than he looks,” mocked the bottom-head that was behind the blue shield.

“Precisely,” said the other addressing Steven. “One of these doors leads directly to the castle and the other leads to…” He paused with a grin as if savoring the words, “…certain _death_.”

Steven didn’t believe that for a second. He might have still been a bit tipsy but by no means was he stupid. There was no way that Piers would have gone through the trouble of bringing him here, let alone have asked him to stay, if he was going to let Steven perish so easily. Still, he had to play this game if he intended to return home.

“And which is which?” Steven asked. By all accounts the doors were the same, nothing remarkable about either to catch his eye or reveal any sort of help.

“We can’t tell you,” said the blue bottom-head. A hand peeked out from the bottom of the shield and pointed to the head hiding behind the lip of the shield. “But they can.”

Immediately the heads on top revealed themselves, mirror images of the bottom.

“You can only ask one of us,” said the red top-head. “And one of us always tells the truth and the other always lies. It’s him.”

“How dare you brother!” The blue top-head huffed. “I tell the truth!”

“What an outrageous lie,” chided the other.

A headache was started to form the more he listened to the two (or was it four?) of them. “Enough,” Steven said and approached the red shield-bearer. “Would he tell me,” he began motioning to the blue shield-bearer, “that this door leads to the castle?”

Confusion crossed the man’s face before answering without much confidence. “Yes?”

“Is that right?” Asked his bottom half.

“I don’t know I’ve never quite understood this myself,” admitted the top.

Steven moved towards his chosen path while the other shield-bearer moved out of the way. He had been confident in his choice, but when he pushed open the door and saw the castle some half mild beyond, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his face. He had won, he’d be going home.

Steven had barely stepped through the threshold when the ground opened up beneath his feet, propelling him into the darkness of a tunnel below. He swore he heard a voice echo around him as he plummeted down.

“Can’t have you gettin’ away like this, darlin’.” The voice sounded like Piers.

Wind rushed around him as he fell, the opening overhead barely casting enough light to see the void below. Something caught on his clothes and snagged his arms and legs. His descent slowed, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

Hundreds of hands jutted out of the formless walls and had taken hold of him, passing him down the tunnel and deeper into the darkness. Before the light faded completely, unable to compete with the depth, Steven saw the glint of black polish over every finger that touched him.

His feet eventually touched down on something solid, dropped from an unknown height by the hands. The blackness around him was absolute, the air still and stale against his tongue. Steven reached out into damp air and felt nothing. Without the use of his other senses Steven strained to hear something, anything, that could help him find his way out. Footsteps. Someone was coming.

A light flared to life before him, a tiny flame held in a glass lantern and growing until it filled its housing. It was Guzma, a deep frown settled over his face.

“Surprised you made it this far,” He spat at Steven.

Despite the hostility Steven was pleased to see him.

“It’s good to see you again, Guzma,” Steven told him. “How did you end up down here?”

“What? Shut up no it isn’t,” Guzma bit back turning away to hide his embarrassment. The little trinkets adorning his vest and belt twinkled in the lantern’s light as he moved. “Whatever. I figured you could use some help. You about ready to give up?”

“I’m not giving up,” Steven answered.

“Sure you are,” Guzma scoffed. “I’ll take you back to the entrance and you can just wait for–”

“Guzma.” There was such an iciness to Steven’s voice it took even him by surprise. “I am not giving up. I am getting out of this place and going home.”

Guzma wasn’t fazed by the sudden change, he even smirked at it. “That so? Why do you want to go back so badly anyways?”

“It’s where I belong.”

Guzma leaned in, his smirk growing like he knew something Steven didn’t. “You sure about that? What’s waiting for you back there?”

A job he hated and the prospect of a loveless marriage that would lead to a lifetime of unhappiness; he had already dealt with enough in his life to know more would be coming. Nothing he wanted was waiting for him. But Steven didn’t say that, instead he ignored the question. “I will go back home,” he said firmly.

Guzma didn’t press the issue, and warned, “It gets a lot harder from here on out. You sure you’re man enough to handle it?”

“I’m finishing the game,” Steven assured.

He looked around for the first time since Guzma appeared to him. They were in a small cavern of roughly carved earth, the uneven walls glistening with moisture. There weren’t any entrances in or out of the room.

“What? Never seen an oubliette before?” Guzma’s scoff broke the silence. “I bet you don’t even know what that is.”

Steven was busy checking the damp walls for a crack or a seam, anything that could get him out of there. There had to be something, Guzma had gotten in after all.

“It’s a type of dungeon,” Steven replied without looking at his companion. “Accessible through a trapdoor. Fitting, I suppose, since I’m Piers’ prisoner.” He frowned when he had circled the room and found nothing. This was as infuriatingly impossible as the rest of this world. “How in the world did you get in here?”

“Calm down, brainiac,” Guzma dismissed. “Come on, I’ll show you how to get out of the labyrinth–”

“Guzma,” Steven warned turning to face the man. He took a step towards Guzma, unimpressed even as the man towered above him. He was tired of this, of these people telling him what he _should_ be doing, that he should give up and give in without so much as a fight. The irony wasn’t lost on him as he thought to his life until this point. “I am getting out of here and getting to that castle. You can either help me or you can get out of my way.”

Guzma took a step back, his smirk faltering. “How do you plan to get out of the oubliette?”

“However you got in here,” Steven remarked. Nothing was what it seemed, there had to be something, some trick he wasn’t considering.

Guzma wouldn’t meet Steven’s eyes. He looked nervous as his eyes darted around the chamber and Steven softened. He hadn’t intended to make the man so uncomfortable. His eyes fell to the little things that Guzma had decorated himself with, trinkets of all shapes made from twisted wires and sparkling crystals and shiny beetle shells.

“You like gems, Guzma?” Steven asked, his voice returning from the near growl it had become.

“What makes you think that?” He shot back.

Steven removed one of his cufflinks, a shiny little green spinel winking up at Guzma as it was offered to him. “If you can get me out of this place then I’ll give this to you.”

Guzma stared at the cufflink intently, weighing his options. He held out his hand. “You got a deal. I’ll get you out of here and as close to the castle as I can but after that you’re on your own.” Steven dropped the cufflink into Guzma’s hand and he immediately pinned it through his shirt, admiring the sparkle of the gem. “Don’t go thinking I’m soft or anything like that cause I ain’t.”

Guzma wandered off and kicked away a worn blanket that had blended almost seamlessly against the ground. Underneath was a little door, only three feet tall. He picked it up and settled it perfectly against a grove in the wall, turning the handle and opening the door. Instead of opening to the stone wall of the oubliette it appeared to be a closest of cookware, a number of pots and pans tumbling into the room. Guzma closed the door with a curse before removing it and turning it around. When he opened it again a faintly lit tunnel appeared on the other side.

“Ta-da,” Guzma presented without enthusiasm.

Steven climbed through the tiny hole first, impressed when Guzma contorted his large frame though afterwards. They were in a natural cave, cracks in the ceiling letting in slivers of light from above. Once in the tunnel Guzma took the lead, his lantern lighting up dozens of large stone faces carved into the walls. Steven nearly jumped when the faces started to speak.

“Go back, go back!” One wailed.

“Run away before it’s too late!” Another warned.

“Piss off,” Guzma snarled and led Steven down the tunnel. “You’ll get a lot of false alarms when you’re on the right track.”

“Oh no you aren’t!” One of the faces debated.

“Shut up!” Guzma snapped.

“Oh please? We hardly ever get to say this?” One of the faces begged.

“Fuck off, I don’t care,” Guzma growled and hurried along with Steven just behind.

After a few minutes they left the tunnel, the rough cavern walls giving way to smooth brickwork as the tunnel ahead branched perpendicular to their path. Directly in front of them sat the hunched, tiny form of a beggar all wrapped in rags and hidden beneath a wide hat, a metal cup held out for coin.

“What’s this?” The beggar croaked curiously.

“Oh shit,” Guzma took a step back, anxiety written over his face. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The beggar asked in a voice that rapidly deepened. “Nothin’?” They rose and grew, tossing the disguise away to reveal the Goblin King himself. “Sure don’t look like nothin’ to me.”

“Oh, hey there Your Majesty,” Guzma fumbled and dropped the lantern, the fire inside dimming slightly as it rolled against a wall.

“Hello, Gonzo,” Piers replied coolly.

“Guzma.”

“Guzma,” Piers corrected. “It looks like you’re out here helpin’ my handsome guest. Tell me that ain’t the case.”

“What, me? I don’t help anyone!” Guzma defended. “I was just taking him back to the beginning like you ordered, I swear!”

Steven felt his heart drop at the omission.

Piers didn’t look convinced and reached out, flicking the cufflink sticking out proudly from Guzma’s shirt. “That so? Then what’s this thing?”

“Oh, uh…” Guzma stared at the little jewel, his mouth falling slack before deciding playing dumb was the safest bet. “Where did that come from?”

“You know, Guzma, if I thought for a second that you were thinkin’ of betrayin’ me I’d be forced to throw you into the Bog of Eternal Stench myself.

The tall man paled at the threat. “No no no please no, I swear I wasn’t helping him you have to believe me!”

Piers ignored his subordinate’s pleas and instead focused on Steven, backing him against a wall and leaning on one arm to cage him off from an easy escape.

“Steven,” hia name rolled smoothly off Piers’ tongue in a purr. “What do you think of my labyrinth? You enjoyin’ yourself, love?”

The soft way Piers spoke to him, the way he smiled in Steven’s direction made him want to do something, he just wasn’t sure what yet. He pushed the feeling down.

“I’m not enjoying the way you’ve been cheating,” he remarked refusing to be swayed by the King’s sultry voice.

“It’s my world, darlin’. You just say the word and it can be yours.” He reached up to stroke the back of his fingers against Steven’s cheek. “You’ll bow to me soon enough.”

Piers was attractive, Steven could admit that, but that didn’t mean he liked the way Piers pushed at him. Confident to the point of smugness and ignoring any sense of personal space, he made Steven want to… no, that would be inappropriate of him. Instead, he held back and let Piers touch his face and close the distance between them until their chests touched; he could feel the steady thrum of Piers’ heartbeat against his own.

“I won’t,” Steven argued.

“You will,” Piers gloated against Steven’s throat, trailing little kisses along his neck.

Steven stiffened and pressed his back into the wall. He took in a deep breath to stop himself from reversing the situation.

Piers nipped sharply at Steven’s throat. “You’ll bow to me like you have to everyone else in your life. You’re bowin’ now, just by lettin’ me do this to you.”

That was too much. He wasn’t sure if it was the aggressive affection or the way Piers was so self-assured that Steven would give in but he was done with both. He grabbed Piers and twisted around, pushing the thin man into the wall and pinning his wrists beside his head. He admired the look on Piers’ face more than he should have. Piers’ eyes gleamed with excitement as he batted those beautifully long lashes at Steven, and the pale, perfect lips parted just enough to invite him closer, begging. Guzma uttered his shock, pulling Steven away from his thoughts and away from Piers’ mouth, having drawn closer than he was comfortable with admitting.

“Guzma,” Piers ground out in a voice sourer than anything Steven had ever heard in his life. “I know you were helpin’ him. You think you can get away with defyin’ me like that?”

Piers stepped back out of the tunnel, disappointment in the look he shot Steve, and he snapped his fingers. There was a loud, mechanical squeal down the tunnel that distracted the two men. They turned to find a machine like a giant drill baring down on them. Steven looked back to where Piers had stepped away, the hole having sealed itself up.

“Run!” Guzma shouted and took off down the tunnel without waiting.

Steven took off after him, not daring to turn as the drill approached; maybe he had been wrong to think Piers wasn’t willing to kill him, though this particular punishment seemed aimed more at his friend. His heart plummeted when he saw Guzma trip only feet ahead of him. Steven lost precious time to help him up, his hand firm around Guzma’s as he rushed down the tunnel.

Something in the side of the tunnel caught his eye. A large section had been boarded over with thick planks. They looked sturdy but were showing signs of rot from the damp atmosphere. Steven whipped his head back to see the drill closing in, no more than a few hundred feet away and gaining.

“Break it down!” He ordered and kicked at the wood, the material splintering.

Guzma joined him, pushing and punching the rotting boards. A part of the barrier caved, just small enough to crawl through. Without thinking, Steven pushed Guzma towards it, forcing him in first before scrambling after, pulled along by his companion on the other side. The drill passed noisily not two seconds later.

With the danger passed, the pair collapsed with a fit of laughter in their little haven as the adrenaline faded from their bodies. The room was tiny, just barely big enough for the pair of them. There wasn’t much of note, just more brick walls, and blessedly a wooden ladder that led upwards toward what was unmistakably sunlight.

Once he had caught his breath, Steven turned to Guzma. “Were you really taking me back?” Steven asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“Nah,” Guzma sighed with just a hint of guilt. “I just said that to his Royal Dickness.”

Steven chuckled with a nod. “I believe you. It’s good to have a friend in this place.”

Guzma turned away from him and started to climb the ladder. “Yeah whatever, let’s just get out of here.”


End file.
